


a debonair knave

by certain_as_the_sun



Category: The Prisoner of Zenda (1937), The Prisoner of Zenda - All Media Types, Zenda Novels - Anthony Hope
Genre: 5+1 Things, Canonical Character Death, Cousin Incest, F/M, Implied/Referenced Attempted Rape, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Non-Chronological, Non-Explicit Sex, One-Sided Rupert/Antoinette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-09-01 08:46:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16761835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/certain_as_the_sun/pseuds/certain_as_the_sun
Summary: Five people Rupert slept with, and one he didn't.





	a debonair knave

**Author's Note:**

> Rupert has been my favourite character ever since I first read _The Prisoner of Zenda_. So of course I ended up writing something about him.
> 
> I searched the books for any reference to Rischenheim's first name, but apparently Anthony Hope never mentioned it. It would sound odd for Rupert to constantly refer to his cousin by his title, so I decided to give him a name.
> 
> This is set mostly in book!canon, but a few bits of film!canon crept in as well.

_Michael_

Rupert and Michael first met when Rupert was formally granted his late father's title. The Duke of Strelsau was almost ten years older than Rupert, and barely acknowledged the young Count's arrival. All his attention was absorbed in darting hate-filled glances at his half-brother. Rupert noticed this even as he bowed to the King. His lips curled into a malicious smile. All was not well there. And if there was one thing Rupert of Hentzau enjoyed, it was stirring up trouble.

Within a week he had insinuated himself into Michael's circle of — not friends, for Duke Michael had no friends, but accomplices. Within a month Rupert had been promoted to one of the Six, Michael's most — perhaps only — trusted lieutenants. And within two months he had wormed his way into Michael's bed.

It was a more difficult seduction than he had expected. Usually he had only to smile and whisper a few flattering words to wind anyone around his finger. But Michael remained unmoved by his smile, and regarded his flattery with suspicion. Rupert was undaunted. The more he was denied something, the more he wanted it. So he moved to more overt flirtations. He used every opportunity he got to stand close to Michael, and to touch him or brush against him as if by chance. Finally he changed to even more obvious touches, that couldn't possibly be mistaken for accidents.

Rupert liked to think that a saint couldn't resist him when he set out to seduce them. And Michael was no saint.

Their relationship, if it could be called that, lasted longer than Rupert had expected. At least once a week he would climb through Michael's window and pull the Duke into a bruising kiss. The other nights he would find someone else to warm his bed. He neither knew nor cared what Michael did on those nights.

He didn't love Michael, any more than he had loved the countless other men and women he'd fallen into bed with. But there were some moments — when Michael kissed him almost gently as he thrust into Rupert, and afterwards when he wrapped an arm around Rupert's waist and pulled him close — when he wondered if Michael loved him.

Rupert hoped not. Pleasure became so much more complicated when feelings got involved.

Yet that didn't stop him feeling a sudden stab of jealousy when Michael's attention turned to Antoinette de Mauban.

* * *

_Lauengram_

Albert of Lauengram had known Rupert for years. Their fathers had been friends, and Albert had helped Rupert become one of the Six. Now they worked together as Michael's lieutenants. It was inevitable, as far as Rupert was concerned, that they would become on and off lovers. Lauengram made only a few half-hearted objections when Rupert appeared at his door one night, and didn't even try to object when he returned on other nights.

"I thought you and Michael—" Lauengram said that first night, as Rupert pushed him down on the bed.

Rupert laughed and silenced him with a kiss. "Dear Albert, have you ever known me to be constant in my affections? What I do when not with Michael is none of his concern. Now help me undress you!"

Months later, after Rupert rode back alone to the Castle in the dark of night, he tried to reconcile himself to the fact Lauengram would never open the door to him again. It wasn't quite a sad thought, though Lauengram had been a friend as well as a lover. Instead it was sobering. If the play-actor and his friends had killed Lauengram, would Rupert himself be next?

He shook that thought away with a toss of his head. Rupert of Hentzau would not be so easily killed.

* * *

_Fritz_

That idiot von Tarlenheim was not Rupert's usual choice of bedmate. He was much too noble and principled. But that made it all the sweeter when he lay beneath Rupert, cursing and swearing but oh so willing. The thing about noble and principled people was that Rupert delighted all the more in making them fall. It had taken a chance meeting, and a few insults — on Tarlenheim's side — and innuendos — on Rupert's side — to bring them here, to a bed in an inn miles from Strelsau and anyone who knew them.

"Just think what your beloved play-actor would say if he saw you now," Rupert whispered in Tarlenheim's ear, digging his fingers into the other man's hips. There would be a bruise there tomorrow. Good luck explaining that to Helga. "Oh, but I forgot. He was in just such a position not so long ago."

"Damn you!" Tarlenheim shouted, far too loud for discretion.

Rupert clapped a hand over his mouth. "Shh! Do you want the people downstairs to come and investigate?"

Tarlenheim fell into a sullen silence, broken only by gasps and moans he couldn't quite stifle.

After they finished Rupert left with a mocking bow and a sarcastic, "Such a _pleasure_ to see you again." He could hear Tarlenheim's angry swearing as he sauntered down the stairs. As soon as he was a safe distance from the inn Rupert burst out laughing. Oh, the hold he had over Tarlenheim now!

* * *

_Rischenheim_

Fondness was not an emotion Rupert was familiar with. Lust, anger, hate, smug satisfaction — he knew all of these perfectly, while more tender feelings were foreign to him. But if he was capable of fondness, he felt some vague form of it for his cousin. The Count of Luzau-Rischenheim was a hopelessly weak man, who worshipped the ground Rupert walked on and was willing to do anything to please him. Such a loyal follower was most helpful when Rupert might at any minute need an accomplice in almost any crime.

Now that Michael was dead, Rudolf was on the throne, and Rupert was exiled, a loyal follower was what he needed most.

He met Rischenheim in Paris, far from Strelsau and anyone who could report their meeting to that pest Sapt. Rupert had learnt years ago how to make his cousin do exactly what he was told. A touch here, a compliment there, a hint that there was no one else he relied on so absolutely, and Rischenheim would do whatever he asked.

"I can't regain my title without you, dear Heinrich," Rupert said, resting his hand on his cousin's leg and giving him the pleading look that he had long since learnt would silence any objections. "Will you help me?"

Rischenheim could never refuse anything his cousin asked. Rupert knew what his answer was before he spoke. "Yes, of course I will. What do you want me to do?"

Rupert smiled, slowly and triumphantly. He leaned forward to kiss Rischenheim, a lingering kiss full of desire and promise. And from that moment there wasn't the slightest chance Rischenheim could deny him anything.

Years ago Rupert had learnt just how to make his cousin come undone. He used that knowledge now, thoroughly and repeatedly, as Rischenheim sobbed and begged incoherently. When they were both satisfied, and when Rischenheim clung to Rupert as a drowning man would cling to a rope, Rupert grinned and kissed his cousin almost tenderly. Such a loyal, willing friend was a very enjoyable thing to have.

* * *

_Rudolf_

The first time happened because of a coincidence. Rupert was exiled, and bored, and in London for want of anywhere else to go. He almost didn't believe his eyes when one evening he saw the King of Ruritania walk out of a theatre. He looked again, and realised it wasn't the king at all.

"So, this is the play-actor's natural habitat! I can't say I'm surprised."

Rassendyll stopped and looked back. A complicated mixture of emotions crossed his face, beginning with surprise and ending with something almost like wary amusement. "What brings you to London, Hentzau? You won't be able to kidnap any kings here."

Rupert grinned and moved closer, until he was practically leaning against Rudolf. He had seen the way the play-actor had looked at him when they met before. In Ruritania they had never had the opportunity to progress beyond battles, both verbal and physical. Now...

Now they were miles from Ruritania, Rudolf was only an English gentleman, his brother and sister-in-law were away, and there was no one to ask any questions when he brought Rupert back to his house.

The second time it happened was deliberate. Rupert visited early one morning — early in Rudolf's opinion, at least, because he hadn't finished his breakfast.

"Really, Rupert, have you no regard for the time?" Rudolf asked, but he didn't object as Rupert knelt between his legs and undid his belt.

"No," Rupert said, throwing Rudolf's belt aside and opening his trousers. And then there was no talking for a while.

* * *

_Antoinette_

Petty spite was what first made Rupert look at Madame de Mauban. He could, and did, toss lovers aside when he tired of them. But he did not like to be the one tossed aside. He stared at Antoinette in front of Michael, making no attempt to hide his admiration. And he did admire her, or he would never have looked again. She was a most attractive woman. He could understand why she had caught Michael's eye. And to make her all the more tempting to Rupert, she feared and hated him.

He found endless excuses to be near her. He — coincidentally, of course — kept meeting her when she was alone. He always greeted her with his most charming smile. She always shuddered and turned away.

Rupert of Hentzau was used to getting what he wanted. And right now he wanted Antoinette. Her wishes didn't matter to him. He barely even realised she genuinely despised him, and wasn't leading him on with a show of defiance. It wouldn't have made any difference if he did understand it. All that mattered to him was satisfying his own desire.

But instead of easily giving in to him, Antoinette screamed and brought Michael running. And when Rupert had dealt with that interruption, the play-actor and his friends interfered. For the next hour he thought of nothing but escape.

Months later, when he was safely out of Ruritania, Rupert ground his teeth to think of how Antoinette had evaded him. But his interest in her had already vanished, and he saw no reason to go looking for her. Within a few days she had become just an embarrassing footnote in the long list of his successful seductions. He had more important things to think of.

Things like regaining his title and land, by any means necessary.


End file.
